Wedding Day Takes The Cake

June 19, 1985|By Scott Thomas, Staff Writer

Far away the sunspots began. Tumults of fire leapt from the star`s surface. Terrible screeches rang through the inferno, souls of the damned. On Earth, nervous geologists inspected their seismographs and checked the figures on gravity and tides. Gypsies circled their tents. Dogs howled and didn`t stop.

It was wedding weekend.

``These cummerbunds are the wrong color,`` The Bridegroom says to Mr. Slick, the tuxedo man. ``They`re supposed to be blue.`` They are black. ``And the ties, too.``

``I`ll see what I can do,`` says Mr. Slick.

Rehearsal day. The Bride`s family -- mother, maid of honor, bridesmaid, respective lovers, friends and a half-dozen siblings -- are driving from Boston, eight hours distant. For the occasion they have rented a minivan which none of them knows how to drive. They improvise.

At 1:00 the phone rings. ``We`re in Massachusetts,`` says the mini-convoy. ``The Blind Man had a diabetic attack, so we took him to the hospital, but he`s all right now. He was out cold, and they were testing for reflexes with a light, and they said, `He`s dead.` `No,` we said. `He has a glass eye!` Isn`t that a scream?``

The Mother stifles a scream. She decides to delay the rehearsal an hour, until 6:00. She calls the minister, the organist, the ushers and the restaurant.

The sky is darkening rapidly. Tornadoes are forecast.

There is a call from the hotel. The Grandmother has fallen, is shaken up, demands to be taken to the hospital. ``Humor her,`` says The Mother.

There is a call from the hospital. The Grandmother has broken her hip and will undergo surgery.

At 5:20 the convoy calls. They are on the other side of nowhere, an hour and a half away.

The Mother calls the minister, the organist, the ushers and the restaurant. Rehearsal will be at 7.

Lightning is making selective strikes in the neighborhood. Unnecessary travel is said to be ill-advised.

The organist is playing a jazz concert and can`t make the rehearsal. The Bride`s family still hasn`t shown up. Rehearsal begins. The Couple are practicing their vows when a rasping snore makes its presence known. The Millionaire Uncle From Korea has fallen asleep.

Lights are flickering at the rehearsal dinner and the bartender is telling where to go when the tornadoes hit. The Usher entertains with blackout stories from Florida. Finally, the minivan arrives and disgorges its addle-eyed travelers.

There are apologies. There is dinner. There is conversation: ``So,`` says the Minister`s Wife to the Short Brother, ``what was clown school like?`` From the Youngest Brother, there is break dancing. The Father offers a toast relating to the calm after the storm.

Far away the sunspots flare.

4a.m. The Blind Man, having found his way to the hotel bar for six hours of nerve-calming, decides the time is ripe for a practical joke. He rings up the bridesmaids` room. He laughs in their befuddled ears.

The tornadoes have killed dozens, but wedding day dawns clear. The Bridegroom seems calm. Which is why the bridal party is surprised to hear him run upstairs, hug the toilet and call for Ralph.

10 a.m. at the church. It`s time. The Bride is sequestered, The Bridegroom is set, the guests are fidgeting.

Waiting.

The Bride`s Mother, and The Blind Man, and the respective lovers and friends, and the half-dozen siblings, are missing.

The Bridegroom calls the hotel. No answer. It`s 10:10.

The Minister oils the waters with an announcement. They`ll be here soon, he says. It`s 10:15.

It`s 10:20 when the tears descend. The Bride. The Millionaire Aunt. The Mother. The neighbor who had left her husband literally the day before -- moved out lock, stock and children -- and arrived at the church to find him aching in the back row.

The Millionaire Aunt will stand in for the Bride`s Mother for the candle- lighting, it is decided. It`s 10:25; the service begins. The Usher walks The Mother to the altar to light her candle, then sits her down. His help is no mere formality, for she is shaking like a doomed airplane. ``Oh, no,`` she says. ``We forgot to bring The Father.``

The Usher schlumps back to fetch The Father, who has been looking out the window perplexedly. The bridesmaids are pawing in their tight shoes.

The fill-in Aunt is ready to go.

``They`re here,`` says The Father.

All the days of their lives.

Far away the sunspots subsided and the seismographers breathed relief. They broke for lunch just as the last flare wreaked its heavenly havoc. And when The Couple took knife in hand-in-hand and the third tier of wedding cake fell off its pedestal, yielding to the sweet pull of gravity and levity, the world took little notice. For what is love but laughter, anyway?